“Is that legal?”
“If I have your permission to land, yes,” he said.
She frowned. Her backyard had enough space. Then there was the street in front of her house. The entire neighborhood would come out if he landed there, which might not be a bad idea. She’d put up with enough snarky questions from smart-alecky kids and their judgmental mothers about what she did in Hollywood.
“What movies are you in, Jillian?”
“How come we haven’t seen you in a movie, Jillian?”
“Is it true you stand in for the actresses when they’re tired and they need to rest?”
Finally, she’d show them. “Yes. The front of my house is wide enough for a helicopter.”
“Good.” Lex punched in a code, and the gate leading to the helipad opened. Mathews was already checking the dials inside the chopper when they reached the helipad. Jillian gave him the address, and like this morning, he punched it in the GPS before they took off.
Lex was quiet during the ride, lost in thought. Jillian wondered what he was thinking about. Probably wondering about her family. Maybe he regretted choosing her for his fake wife project.
Jillian sat back and stared straight ahead, her mind going in circles. How was she going to convince her father to accept the money? There was no democracy in their family. Whatever their father decided, everyone went along with it. Even Uncle Rowan, his younger brother, often went along with their father’s suggestions. Since he didn’t want her involved, everyone was going to take his side.
The closer they got to her place, the tenser she became. A large, warm hand covered hers, and Jillian looked up at Lex. “I’m sure your father is okay.”
She gave him a tiny smile, wishing she could confide in him.
Neighbors poured out of their homes before they landed. School was already out for the day, so kids left their parents on the patios and driveways, walked onto the street, and stared. By the time the helicopter landed on their front lawn, they were running toward their house.
“Do you want me to wait?” Lex asked.
Jillian glanced at her house. The living room curtain moved, and Sophia’s pretty face pressed on the window. All of a sudden, Jillian wasn’t too sure about challenging her father. Daniel Finnegan was larger than life. He wasn’t just the head of the Fearless Finnegan Troupe; he was also the MC of Bay Area Circus, working closely with the owner. On stage or at home, he ruled with a firm hand. He wasn’t cruel or anything like that. He just didn’t like to be contradicted, so his word tended to be the law.
When he’d said Jillian couldn’t be part of the troupe, no one in the family had said a peep. Their lack of support had hurt, and she’d headed to Hollywood vowing to return in glory. She’d imagined her father begging her to rejoin their act, asking for her forgiveness for sending her way. Never happened. Yet here she was eleven years later, ready to ask him not to disband the troupe. She was insane.
She looked at Lex. “Can you come with me?”
Surprise flickered in his gray eyes. “Are you sure?”
“Yes.” She couldn’t explain it, but knowing he was with her made her feel a lot more confident. “But if you’d rather not, that’s okay.”
Lex smiled reassuringly. “I want to.”
He followed her down and exchanged a nod with Mathews. Already the neighbors’ kids were climbing over the low-lying fence and inching closer to the helicopter. There were no boundaries when she was growing up, and that hadn’t changed. The parents watched from the comfort of their stoops, and some even waved when she made eye contact.
Jillian led the way to her front door, the warmth of Lex’s hand on the small of her back reassuring. The other gripped the moneybag. The door flew open before they reached it, and a bundle in pink and purple shot out and straight into Jillian’s arms. If Lex wasn’t there, she would have tipped backward.
“You’re here… You’re here… You’re here…”
Four-year-old Sophia Finnegan was the actress in the family. She was a precocious, totally adorable kid with riotous brown curls and the greenest eyes in the family. Greg wanted to rep her and hadn’t given up on convincing Ricky that she was destined for fame.
“Hey, munchkin,” Jillian cooed, rubbing her back. “I missed you, too.”
Sophia leaned back and said, “Bad people came to see Grampa. Two”—she counted her fingers—“three men. One had a shiny head with no hair.”
Jillian’s first thought was to distract her. She carried her into the house. “That’s terrible, sweetie. Where’s Mommy?”
“They were mean to Grampa, Jill,” Sophia continued without answering Jillian’s question. “I told them to stop being mean to my grampa, but the man with no hair said Grampa was a bad man. Grampa’s face was red. He yelled, ‘Get Out! Get Out of my house!’”
Jillian closed her eyes and groaned, completely mortified. “Well, I hope Grandpa is okay,” she said weakly, wishing Sophia would shut up. Instead, the imp peeked at Lex and ducked her head.
He’d followed them inside the house. Directly ahead was a pile of broken furniture and picture frames. Worse, sounds came from the back of the house where her father’s bedroom was located. Sounded like an argument. Were the others finally standing up to their father?
She led Lex to the living room and frowned at the changes. Pictures were missing from the fireplace and the wall. The men must have broken them.
“Then Mom grabbed me, and we hid in the closet and covered our ears,” Sophia added and sniffled. Jillian focused on her. Sophia’s green eyes swam with tears.
Jillian hugged her tiny body and fought tears, not caring anymore that Lex was hearing the sordid details.
“They made a big mess,” Sophia continued, sniffling and hiccupping, tears rolling down her cheeks. Jillian wiped them. “And Mommy was so mad. She wanted to call the police, but Grampa said no. So she called Daddy and Uncle Cian. The bad men touched Daddy’s special ball. No one is supposed to touch Daddy’s special ball.”
The “special” ball was Ricky’s most prized sports memorabilia. He had caught it during the playoffs and even had it signed by the hitter. Jillian tried to put Sophia down, but the little imp clung to her neck and wrapped her legs tightly around her waist.
“There’s glass on the floor, Aunt Jillian. That’s why Mommy said to stay in my room, but Lucy was jumping and pointing at the sky and I wanted to see what she was pointing at. Then the heli… heli… plane came down.”
Jillian adored her niece, but she could try the patience of a saint. Someone had already swept the glass away. “Sophia Angelique Finnegan! There’s no glass on the floor and you have shoes on.”
Sophia shook her head, curls whipping every which way, her tiny legs tightening around Jillian. Then the little imp glanced at Lex and stage whispered, “He’s a stranger.”
Jillian groaned and lifted her up. Of course, after the fiasco with the thugs, she’d be leery of strangers. “Sophia, this is my friend Lex. Lex, my niece Sophia.”
Sophia studied his face then whispered, “Your friend, Aunt Jillian?”
“Yes. I know where he lives, and I know his mommy.”
“He has a mommy?”
“Hard to believe, isn’t it?”
Sophia frowned, not getting it. “Daddy doesn’t have a mommy. You don’t have a mommy.”
“Some grown-ups do. I also know his best friend, Douglas.”
Lex made a sound like he was trying not to laugh. Jillian glared at him. Let’s see how he likes being held hostage by an impossible four-year-old. “And you know what, hun? He’s going to show you his heli-plane.” That got Sophia’s attention. “It is really cool. Would you like that?”
Sophia nodded and wiggled out of Jillian’s arms. “Can Lucy see the inside too, Aunt Jillian?”
“Oh yes. Besties are invited.”
“And Jessie?” Sophia asked.
Jillian looked at Lex. “Can Jessie see inside the heli-plane, too?”
Lex nodded, his
expression hard to read. He’d probably heard the plea in her voice. “Absolutely.” He bowed to Sophia. “I always wanted to escort three little princesses.”
Sophia giggled. “I’m not a princess. I’m Sophia Angelique Finnegan.”
“Really? You look just like Princess Sophia,” Lex said and offered her his hand. “May I have the honor of escorting you to my heli-plane?”
Sophia giggled. “Who is Princess Sophia?”
“A princess I met from far, far away,” Lex said.
Jillian watched as he charmed her niece. Just before he walked through the door, he glanced back and gave her a reassuring smile. Knowing he’d be around if she needed him was enough. She nodded. Her glance went to the duffel bag with the money when the door closed behind them. Refusing to second-guess herself, she grabbed it and headed toward the back of the house.
Her heart pounded louder as she got closer to her father’s bedroom, and so did the raised voices. She hesitated one last time, but mentally slapped herself, blew out a breath, and knocked.
Silence followed from behind the door. Then it was jerked open.
“Sophia, I told you…” Ginger’s voice faded when she realized her daughter wasn’t the one knocking. “Jillian?”
“Hey.” Jillian stepped forward, but Ginger didn’t move aside. Instead she glanced behind her. “Uh, excuse me? I’d like to come inside.”
She blinked nervously, then stepped back. She’d always been skittish and scared of her father-in-law. Jillian glanced around. The entire gang was there, including Elena, Cian’s wife. Aunt Molly, Uncle Rowan’s wife, was the only one missing, but then again, she wasn’t part of the business. She was a librarian at a local elementary school.
“Hi, guys,” Jillian said, eyes staying on her father who managed to look in charge despite being bedridden. He must hate that. She went to his side. “You’re looking better, Dad.”
“What are you doing here?” he asked coldly before she reached him. A different person would have stopped. He had a gruff voice and a presence that could be intimidating, but Jillian had learned to ignore both.
“Visiting.” Jillian planted a kiss on his cheek. “This is still my home.” She glanced at the others who watched her with varied expressions. Ricky looked worried, Ginger relieved, Cian pissed, while Elena smiled smugly. Her cousins, Des and Aiden, stared at their hands.
Uncle Rowan looked more tired than usual. He murmured, “Hey, kiddo.”
“No, it’s not!” Her father’s voice whipped out and cut across the room.
Jillian turned to face him. “What is not?”
“This is not your home. Not anymore. You should not be here, Jillian.”
Jillian flinched and glanced around, but no one was looking at her now. She couldn’t remember the last time her father had called her Jillian. It was always Jilly. She wasn’t even sure why that mattered now after what he’d just said.
“Okay. I do have my own place, Dad, but—”
“There’s no but, young lady,” he barked. “We’re having a family meeting about a family business, and you cannot be involved. You’re no longer part of the Fearless Finnegan Troupe. You have your life away from this. Go back to it.”
It was obvious the others hadn’t told him. “I want back in, Dad. These years in Hollywood haven’t been easy. I belong here with you and the rest of the family. Finnegans stay together, you always say. I’m older, smarter, and I don’t take chances anymore.”
He shook his head. “Damn it, Jillian. Only a Finnegan can be in the troupe, and you are not a Finnegan.”
If he’d reached out and punched her, the pain would not have been as swift or piercing. Her throat tightened, but she refused to back down. “That doesn’t even make sense, Dad. If you’re talking about blood, Elena and Ginger are Finnegans by marriage, yet they’re part of the act. I’m your daughter. If the business is in trouble, I should be told about it. If people are chipping in, I want to help too.”
“We don’t need your help.” He looked at Ricky and ground out, “Get her out of here.”
Ricky moved to Jillian’s side and reached for her arm. She stepped back. “Fine. I’ll leave, but here’s three hundred and fifty thousand you can use to keep things going.” She placed the duffel bag on the bed. “If you need more…”
“We don’t need your money, Jillian,” her father said and nudged the bag with his knee.
“Dad, please,” Ricky protested.
“Stay out of this, Ricky. You shouldn’t have called her. She didn’t need to know about this.”
“I haven’t told her anything, except that you want to sell the business,” Ricky yelled back. “And she does have a right to know. She’s our sister. If we all helped, maybe we could get enough money to pay the Armenians enough to back off.”
Silence followed, but her father was not looking at Ricky. His eyes were narrowed on Jillian. She swallowed.
“You’re not my daughter,” her father said, cutting her off. “I never officially adopted you. You mother was a sweet woman, but very naïve. I wanted her to be part of the troupe, so I married her. I wanted her to stop asking me to adopt you, so I printed some papers off the Internet and filled them out. Wendell showed me how to forge things. Half of the Bay Area employees don’t have real papers.”
This time the silence was spooky. Jillian tried to speak, but her throat muscles had seized up. “Why are you…? You’re lying,” she whispered.
“No, I’m not,” her father said. “You’re no more my daughter than a child I’d picked up off the street and offered room and board while she worked for her upkeep in my troupe.” Someone made a mewling noise behind me. Probably Ginger. “I did right by your mother and raised you, but enough is enough. Why do you think I sent you away when you turned eighteen, huh? I’d hoped you’d never know the truth. You’re forcing my hand by insisting on being here. You’re not a Finnegan, Jillian. You never were.”
Blood roared past her ears, but his words were clear. Still, she refused to believe him. Everything he’d ever done and said to her couldn’t be a lie. This was some practical joke. An attempt to stop her from rejoining the troupe.
Dizziness washed over Jillian, and she realized why. She’d stopped breathing. A bad habit she’d perfected as a child when she couldn’t get her way. She sucked in air as memories from the past zipped through her head. Children on their street and those they’d meet at the performances asking her what it felt like to be a Finnegan.
“Great! I have the best family in the world,” she’d say with pride.
All lies? She didn’t think so. How many noses had she bloodied when some kid dared to say she wasn’t really a Finnegan because she was adopted? How many times had she been sent to the principal because she’d threatened to beat up someone? Even Ricky had sucker punched a few A-holes for messing with his sister.
She was a Finnegan and proud of it.
Tears burned the back of Jillian’s eyes, but she refused to let them fall. She glanced at the others. Except for Uncle Rowan, they all stared at her father in horror. Daniel Finnegan was not her father? No, she refused to believe it. This was something he’d cooked up for some twisted reason.
“Cian? Ricky?” She needed just one person to tell her it was a lie or a joke. Maybe stand up to her father and call him a liar.
Her brothers shook their heads. From their expressions, this was news to them.
Jillian whipped around and faced her uncle. “Uncle Rowan?” she asked. “Is this true?”
He nodded. “Sorry, kiddo.”
A knife twisted in her gut would have been less painful. Jillian tried to swallow, but her mouth had turned into sandpaper.
“Why didn’t you tell me bef—” Her voice shook to a stop. “Before?” she whispered.
He father glared, eyes icy, his hands clenched on top of the covers, but he didn’t speak.
“Why?” Jillian shouted.
“Because I made a promise to your mother,” her father, or the man she’d
believed was Dad, snapped. “Take your money and leave,” he growled. “We don’t need it. And don’t ever come back here again.”
Hysteria bubbled to the surface, and Jillian laughed harshly. “Don’t worry, Da… Mr. Finnegan. I won’t dirty your doorsteps again.” She reached for the duffel bag, unzipped it, and turned it upside down. The wads of bills fell onto the bed, a few landing on the floor. “Keep the money. It should make up for what you spent on my clothes, food, dance and gymnastic lessons.” She turned to leave.
“I don’t want your money,” he called out, and Jillian paused. She bit her lower lip to stop herself from saying something she’d regret. Exhaling, she continued toward the door.
Ricky reached for her arm. “Jill—”
“Don’t, Ricky.” She yanked opened the door and carefully closed it behind her when she wanted to slam it. Old habits died hard. Tears welled in her eyes. Another old habit. She always cried after a confrontation, not during.
She stopped, lifted her chin, and blinked rapidly. The door opened behind her and she took off, not wanting to see or talk to a Finnegan. Ever. Again.
~*~
Thugs and money were a terrible combination. No matter how Lex looked at it, something bad was going on with Jillian’s family. He should be inside by her side, not dealing with gawking neighborhood kids. They kept inching closer and closer until they surrounded the helicopter.
Sophia had decided she didn’t want her friends to join them after all and was seated with Mathews at the front, asking questions and waving to her friends. A star in the making.
“Mister, is this your helicopter?” one boy asked.
“How fast does it go?” another asked.
“Can you do tricks in the air? My Uncle Jimmy has a plane and he can make it do loop-de-loops in the air. But his plane is this small.” The boy indicated with his pudgy hands.
Yeah, toy planes. Lex smiled at the boy and explained why his helicopter couldn’t do that. Question after question, but he still didn’t let them get on board. You allowed one on, you had to allow them all.
His eyes went to the front entrance of Jillian’s home. He didn’t want to worry about her, but he couldn’t help it. Coming from a large family, he knew how one incident by a single member could affect everyone. The Fitzgeralds had their share of scandals, so he was used to family crises.
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